


Sure

by DianaSkye



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, HEA, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Kissing, Mild Smut, Rare Pairings, Sexual Content, Sirius Black Lives, The Burrow (Harry Potter), Weasley weddings, background Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:21:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27733723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DianaSkye/pseuds/DianaSkye
Summary: Ginny Weasley doesn’t know what she wants from life. She’s drifting, unsure of almost everything, except this: She wants Sirius Black.Sirius lives AU, two-shot.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 13
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

Ginny Weasley is having a wonderful night.

She’s surrounded by her family and all of their friends. She’s wearing a beautiful dress. The weather’s perfect – a warm summer night with a clear sky. She’s dancing and drinking — two of her favourite things — and she’s just watched her brother marry her best friend.

It was a perfect wedding. Hermione looked stunning, Ron had never been happier, and Harry did a wonderful job officiating the ceremony. And, unlike the last time her family hosted a wedding, it was extremely unlikely that the reception would be raided by Death Eaters.

So yes, Ginny is having a wonderful night. She is.

Honestly.

It’s just that Ron and Hermione are so happy, and Bill and Fleur can’t keep their eyes off each other despite being married for five years now, and Harry’s been dancing with Padma Patil all night, looking more adoringly at her than he looked at Ginny for at least the final two years of their relationship, and really Ginny’s just so exceptionally happy for all of them.

Truly she is.

For the most part.

Ginny loves her independence, and she is single by choice (thank you very much).

It’s really only on nights like this, surrounded by happy couples that Ginny ever begins to doubt that choice.

She knows, intellectually, that staying single is the right thing for her. She travels so much and trains so hard with the team that she doesn’t exactly have time for a typical relationship.

She certainly enjoys the freedom that comes with her lifestyle, of being able to meet someone in any city she happens to be in, to bring them back to whatever bed she’s sleeping in that night or join them in theirs. Ginny had had some pretty great sex in the year since things ended with Harry and she’s starting to amass a small collection of casual partners all over Britain, which suits her fine.

Witch Weekly loves it — she’s practically a walking gossip section these days.

Ginny steals a glance across the room to where Sirius is sitting, immersed in conversation with his cousin Andromeda. Teddy is at their feet, playing with a small motorbike she suspects Sirius conjured for him. She assumes it’s Sirius’ doing, because the bike keeps shooting out small, but still wildly irresponsible jets of fire. No one but Sirius – except perhaps her brother George – would consider this an appropriate toy for a five-year-old. Teddy loves it of course and seems no worse for wear.

Sirius... Well, Sirius looks really fucking good in his dress robes.

There. She’s allowed herself to have the thought.

 _Can we move on now?_ she asks herself.

 _Apparently not, because you’re still staring_ , she answers herself.

_Shit._

Well, alright. Ginny hasn’t been fantasizing constantly about Sirius ever since she ran into him at The Three Broomsticks a month ago.

No, she’s eaten, and slept, and played quidditch too. And even some other things!

But yeah, okay, she has been thinking about Sirius. Like a lot.

It’s just that when they talked at the bar, they’d flirted a bit. Well, she knew _she_ flirted, even though she doesn’t think she’d meant to at first, and she’s pretty sure that he had been flirting too.

She remembers the way his eyes lingered on her lips, how his gaze slid down over her body, just briefly, just before she left.

She isn’t sure what it meant. And she isn’t sure what she wants to do about it.

Well, she knows what she _wants_ to do, which is climb him like a tree and drag him up to her bedroom.

But in terms of things she can actually, reasonably do, Ginny is at a loss. He’s twice her age, he’s like a father to Harry, he’s friends with her _parents_ , and it’s really entirely inappropriate for her to be even thinking about him like this at all.

So, okay, she’ll do nothing.

She’ll just go and get another drink. Which, honestly, she needs.

Ginny heads over to the bar, and she’s waiting for the witch behind it to pour her a glass of wine, when she feels someone step in beside her and stand slightly too close. She closes her eyes and braces herself for a moment before turning to look at whoever it is, though she has a strong suspicion she knows.

She’s right. _Fucking of course._

“Firewhisky when you get a chance, love,” Sirius says to the bartender, as the witch is passing Ginny her wine. “Beautiful wedding, wasn’t it?” he asks, turning towards Ginny, still standing distractingly close.

“Oh, er, yes, lovely. Hermione and Ron are just so happy,” she manages. “And you, um, must be proud of Harry, he did such a lovely job on the ceremony.”

(Ginny has never called anything “lovely” before in her life – why precisely has she picked this specific moment to start?)

“Yes, of course, he did great,” Sirius replies smoothly. “Listen, I was just heading outside for some air, you wouldn’t care to join me would you?”

Ginny swallows nervously. “Sure.”

Sirius leads the way out of the tent, and he and Ginny walk through the gardens of the Burrow for a couple minutes, silent but for the occasional sipping of their drinks.

Eventually, Sirius motions to a bench that lies just off the path, tucked behind a little copse of trees, and tilts his head in suggestion. Ginny nods and sits down with him.

“I remember when Remus and Tonks got married,” he says after a moment, talking towards the ground, not looking at her. “It was much smaller than this, only me, Ted and Andromeda, and Mad-Eye were there. I was Remus’s best man of course, and Mad-Eye was Tonks’s, though she kept calling him her maid of honour.”

Ginny laughs. “I’m sure Mad-Eye loved that.”

“He did, I think. He loved her so much, like a daughter, though he was never great at showing it. She knew though, I’m sure.” He pauses. “Anyway, they had the ceremony in the kitchen, and Andromeda had baked a cake, and we all had a glass of champagne, and that was it. Back to the war.”

His expression, which was relaxed and fluid, hardens slightly as he mentions the war. Ginny knows that feeling. She feels it every time she remembers a funny story about Fred, or when she thinks of the rare moments of fun she had with Neville and Luna in her sixth year at Hogwarts during the Carrows’ reign of terror.

So many of her happy memories now are tainted by sadness or guilt. She’s sure it must be the same for Sirius, and she’s thinking about how to put what she’s feeling into words and say something to him, but he carries on.

“Well, as nice as today’s wedding was, I have to say, that little wedding in the kitchen was the most beautiful wedding I’ve ever been to. It was just perfect – sweet, intimate.” His voice catches a little on the final word as his gaze finally rises to meet hers, and their eyes meet for just a moment before he looks away again. “I used to think that if I ever got married, I’d want a wedding like that.”

“Used to?” she asks, aiming for a little levity, as she adds teasingly, “Have you changed your mind then? Come around to big weddings in magically enlarged tents filled with literal fairy lights?”

He chuckles a little. “Not quite. I just don’t think I’m very likely to get married anymore.”

“Well, I suppose marriage isn’t for everyone,” Ginny says. “I’m not sure it would be for me either, to be honest. I mean, I know I’m young still, that I’m not actually doomed to single-dom despite how it might feel being surrounded by so many happy couples.”

“Doomed? From what I’ve heard, I’d have thought you were rather enjoying it ,” Sirius puts in with a slight smirk.

She laughs. “Heard from where, Witch Weekly? The rumours they print about me are only, like, half true.” She considers. “Maybe two-thirds.”

He barks out a laugh, genuine affection pulling around his eyes. “I think you were saying something about marriage, before I rudely interrupted.”

“Right. I don’t know, I suppose. I’m just unsure of everything. I can’t imagine being as sure as Ron and Hermione are of each other. Or even as sure as Harry is that he wants to get married and have children. He was always sure about what he wanted when we were together, and I never was.” It’s all just poured out of her. “In the end, I think it made both of us unsure of each other.”

“Mm,” Sirius contributes, deep in thought. “Well,” he says eventually, “it makes sense for Harry to want what he didn’t have growing up, and to want it so much that he feels certain of it. You’re not desperate for a family like Harry is, because you already have one, so you might want other things. You don’t have to know what you want when you’re twenty-one.

“Though I hope you figure it out before you’re forty-two, because this,” he gestures to himself, grimacing “is not ideal.”

Ginny considers making a flirtatious remark, something about how he does actually look pretty ideal from where she’s sitting, but the seriousness of the feeling behind what he just said stops her.

She realizes that Sirius is probably pretty unhappy, maybe depressed. Even though he projects an image of a fun, free-spirited (sexy) guy who always has a joke or a friendly word, he probably feels rather alone. Other than Harry, Sirius really doesn’t have any close family.

Ginny feels a rush of guilt. Here she is, talking to Sirius, flirting with him, lusting after him.

And all the while she knows that Harry would never be okay with her and Sirius getting involved. Not even a kiss. And the last thing she would ever want to do is drive a wedge between Sirius and his godson.

They sit in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

After a moment, Sirius leans a little closer to her and tucks a piece of hair that’s fallen into her face back behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her jaw. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I didn’t mean to bring down the mood.”

“You didn’t,” she tries to assure him, taking his hand from where it still rests near her face, and clasping it in both of hers. “I was just thinking about what I want, here, with you, and whether it’s... okay.”

“Ginny, I...” he pauses, swallowing, and she feels her heart sink. She’s sure he’s about to finish with _can’t do this._ “I really want to kiss you. And I don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t want to, maybe it isn’t okay that I do, but… I really fucking want to.”

Her heart leaps back up again. She’s sure, absolutely sure, that she wants to kiss Sirius Black. She’s as sure of it as she is _unsure_ about everything else in her life.

So she kisses him. He tastes like firewhisky and something that reminds her a bit of dogs, but not in a gross way, in an intoxicating, wonderful, _Sirius_ way.

Her lips part a little bit and he slides his tongue between them. She positively melts. She’s dizzy as she leans into the kiss with everything she has.

Ginny’s fingers twist into the long hair at the nape of his neck and Sirius slips his hand to her waist, gently inching upwards over her body. His fingertips have just barely found the edge of her breast, and she’s positively aching for more, when there’s an enormous bang. Like there’s been an explosion at the wedding.

They both jump up and scramble for their wands, looking desperately around and for one wild second all Ginny can think is _not again. Not another wedding attack._

But then there’s another bang and Sirius is laughing his loud, barking laugh, having realized slightly before she did what was happening.

It’s fireworks. Of course. George is always setting off fireworks, and yes, now that she thinks about it, he did mention the special fireworks he was preparing for the wedding. She laughs with Sirius in relief.

“Well, the war didn’t make us jumpy at all,” Sirius says drily. Ginny has the bizarre little thought that she likes the way the word _us_ sounds when he says it to mean him and her.

“I guess we should go rejoin the party,” she says, a touch reluctantly. Though, she does want to see the fireworks and she has probably already been away too long considering this is the wedding of two people so important to her.

“We should,” he confirms, pressing another quick kiss to her lips and taking her hand.

Together they walk back through the gardens and around to the other side of the tent, where the wedding guests are gathered to watch the fireworks.

Sirius drops her hand as they approach the crowd and gives her one more of his wicked smirks before running over to Teddy and lifting him up on his shoulders. Teddy shrieks with delight and Ginny can’t contain her smile, even as she turns away and makes her way to the front of the crowd to find her family.

She slips in between Hermione and Charlie, who’re standing right at the front. Hermione shoots her a questioning glance – she clearly noticed Ginny’s absence – but she’s easily distracted by the next firework George produces, which bears the clear image of a house elf wearing one of Hermione’s signature hats.

Ginny looks around at her family. George is in his element, setting off explosions. Her mother is crying happy tears, leaning against her father. Hermione has a look of pure, slightly manic joy on her face as she watches the elf firework and Ron is looking at his new wife’s expression with a mix of amusement and star-struck adoration.

The rest of them – Bill and Fleur and Victoire, Charlie, Percy - look as overjoyed and full of love as she feels, and Ginny realizes that she is sure of another thing too. She has a family who she loves.

And Sirius is right – since she’s sure of that, she really doesn’t have to worry so much about being sure of anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you ever so much for reading!
> 
> This little fic came from a longer story that I was working on and decided to not finish. I liked this scene and wanted to share it, even though I have no plans to share the rest of the story I pulled it out of.
> 
> THAT SAID, I _could _conceivably be convinced to write a second (smutty?) chapter to this if people want that?__


	2. Chapter 2

“Any chance you feel like getting out of here?” 

Ginny slides up to where Sirius is standing at the edge of the emptying dance floor, watching the drunken dancers. She stands next to him, looking straight ahead in an effort to appear suitably nonchalant. 

The wedding is winding down, many of the guests already gone, though there are a few stragglers still dancing like the night will never end. Ron and Hermione left about twenty minutes ago, off by portkey to a honeymoon suite in Paris. 

Ginny doesn’t understand people who stick around after parties are over and normally she’d be long gone, but tonight she’s in the mood to push her luck. 

Sirius doesn’t even turn his head, understanding this game of subtlety she’s playing, but Ginny catches the edge of a smirk twisting at the corner of his mouth. “My place or yours?”

“Yours,” she says immediately, thinking that ‘hers’ doesn’t really exist. It’s her old room at her parents, sometimes the spare room above George’s store, most often random hotel rooms on the road with the Harpies. 

Sirius takes a quick scan of the room, before finally landing his gaze on Ginny, his face splitting into a crooked grin. He slips his tongue out of his mouth, moistening his lips, locking eyes with her as he does so. Her breath stutters in her throat. 

Then, he clasps his hand around the back of Ginny’s arm and disapparates. 

They reappear in his bedroom. Sirius’s room is a bizarre combination of ornate antique furniture, posters of motorcycles and muggle women, and generalized mess. 

He catches her gaze on one of the posters and he cringes. “Sorry about those. I put them up when I was sixteen, with a permanent sticking charm.”

“I don’t mind,” she says, studying the posters more closely. “This blond one is quite pretty.”

He laughs that rich barking laugh of his, and she turns back around to face him, stepping closer. 

“I didn’t mean to be, er, presumptuous,” he says, “by bringing you here. I would have started downstairs, offered you a drink at least, but I’m not sure if Harry’s home and I didn’t want…” he trails off. 

“I get it. And besides, ” Ginny says slowly, doing her best to be seductive, “I don’t think it counts as being presumptuous if you presume correctly.”

She flicks her eyes up to meet his gaze and, closing the remaining gap between them, she presses her lips against his. 

He kisses her back eagerly, his tongue working between her lips, opening her up to him, as he clasps her face with both hands. She’s enchanted by the taste of him, by the feel of the hard muscle of his chest under her hand, by the way he’s kissing her like she’s the only thing in the world. 

In a way, she could keep doing this forever. Kissing Sirius is more than enough. She’s overwhelmed with sensation as it is. 

And yet. 

All she can think about is _more_. She tugs at his outer robes, sliding them indelicately down his shoulders. He breaks away for a second so he can shrug out of them completely, then he’s back on her. His kisses are rough and messy, distracted as he is by fumbling with the zipper at the back of her gown. 

“Fuck,” he growls. “Turn around.”

She laughs as she complies, giving him better access to free her from the dress. Her mirth quickly dies as she’s swept up in the sensation of his tongue trailing down her back, following the path of the zipper he’s undoing.

The dress falls away and she’s left wishing momentarily that she were wearing something cuter than the beige strapless bra and sensible knickers necessitated by the fit of the bridesmaid’s gown. But Sirius’s hands are roving reverently around her body, and he’s peppering kisses along the side of her neck, and she forgets all that. 

She turns around and presses her mouth to his, while making quick work of the buttons on his shirt and pulling it from his shoulders. She throws the shirt away haphazardly, only to hear a crash as it knocks something from his dresser. 

They both turn their heads at the sound. “Sorry!” Ginny says, cringing. “What fell?”

“Oh, just a priceless antique vase.”

“What?!” Her eyes go wide. 

But Sirius bursts out laughing. “It’s probably an inkwell or something — I’m not actually a big vase guy.” He continues to chuckle, now at the glare she’s giving him. “I couldn’t resist, it was too easy.”

“Asshole,” she mutters, shaking her head, but feels a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth and she can’t help but laugh a little bit too.

“I’m sorry,” he says, still smirking, as he pulls her back into his arms. “Maybe I can make it up to you somehow?”

And the next thing she knows, she’s lying back on his bed, and he’s working his way down her body, with his hands and his mouth. Then her ugly beige bra is on the floor, then so are her knickers, and then that feeling of being overwhelmed by sensation is back tenfold, because now Sirius’s tongue is _there_ and the tiny fraction of coherent brain power she has left is thinking that twenty extra years of experience really does make a difference, and then she is genuinely thinking nothing at all. 

“Merlinsfuckinghat,” she gasps as she comes, the tension that had been burning through her body releasing in a rush. 

She sinks into the bed, a puddle in human skin. Sirius appears next to her, propped up on an elbow, eyebrow raised. 

“Merlin’s fucking hat? That’s what you say during sex, ‘Merlin’s fucking hat’?”

“Well not usually!” Ginny can tell she’s blushing, but she’s laughing too. “It just slipped out.”

They’re all giggles and hysteria and teasing remarks for a moment, until suddenly he’s kissing her through the laughter. She still hasn’t quite stopped laughing as he kicks out of the last of his clothing. Neither has he, even as he looks at her with hungry eyes and shifts his weight so he’s over top of her and presses gently inside her. 

The levity is replaced with something else though, something deeper, now that she can see what Sirius looks like from this angle and can feel how well his body fits to hers. 

Ginny is a woman who likes sex, has been for a while now, but she’s never been the type to think it means anything. In fact, she thinks that people who say that sex is a big, meaningful, profound, momentous thing are either misogynists or kidding themselves. It just feels good. It’s just fun. 

But _this_. This connection, the way that this feels, and looks, and sounds, and smells, and tastes. This might be more than that. 

And then she’s right at the edge. Of what exactly, she’s not sure. Maybe the rest of her life. He pushes her over with a few circles of his thumb and she’s 

falling, 

falling, 

falling. 

He catches her, covering her cries with his mouth and riding it out with her, until he tumbles over the edge too. 

There’s nothing for a moment but the sound of heavy breathing as they land softly, in this new reality. 

He lies back alongside her, their shoulders touching, eyes towards the ceiling. 

Everything’s quiet for a moment, and it still feels all profound and meaningful, until Sirius breaks the silence. 

“Merlin’s fucking hat, that was amazing,” he says, and they dissolve into positively raucous laughter. 

In the morning, she wakes up in his bed. Ginny doesn’t sleep over, as a rule. Certainly not on a first time, usually not ever. 

But nothing about Sirius is usual. There are the obvious things - his age, his relationship to her ex, the fact that she’s known him since she was fourteen. 

There are other things too - the intense way he kisses her, how easy it is to laugh together, the way he’d seemed to just _understand_ her when they’d talked in the garden hours ago. The way that last night she felt something she’s never felt before.

All that seems to add up to feeling content when she wakes up next to Sirius. She’s not scared, she’s not jumping up and running away from anything that could possibly lead to feelings, she’s just… settled. 

Metaphorically settled, of course. Physically, she’s getting up at ungodly hour in an effort to leave before Harry gets home. They’ll have to tell Harry about this, Ginny knows. And soon, because she doesn’t think they can reasonably get away with doing this again without Harry’s knowledge, and… it definitely won’t be long before she wants to see Sirius again. 

But she wants to _talk_ to Harry, not have him find her sneaking out of his godfather’s bedroom, so. She gets up early. 

Sirius gets up with her, and she puts on one of his t-shirts and shorts, folding her gown from the night before roughly over her arm. 

They say goodbye in the kitchen, in front of the fireplace. It’s a lot of _this was great_ and _I can’t wait to see you again_ and qualifying every statement with _Merlin’s fucking hat_ , which seems to have become a joke she will never escape from. 

There’s a rather intense goodbye kiss, involving Ginny perched on the edge of the long table, Sirius standing between her thighs, hands cupped around her face. Then:

“About time!” Harry’s voice is clear and sharp from across the room. 

Sirius nearly falls over in his rush to scramble away from her, and Ginny claps a hand over her mouth in surprise.

Harry’s leaning casually in the doorway to the kitchen, looking rumpled in old Gryffindor pyjamas, his round glasses slightly askew. 

“I, er, when did you get home?” Sirius sputters at his godson. 

“… I’ve been here all night.” Harry has the air of someone stating the obvious, though in Ginny’s mind, nothing about this situation is at all obvious. “I just know how to use silencing charms - unlike some people, apparently.”

Sirius and Ginny look at each other. His face is blanched, his eyes comically wide. She’s certain her expression mirrors his. 

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” Ginny starts. “I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable, or, er, cross any lines or, I don’t know — ”

“Wait, you didn’t think I’d be upset about this, did you?”

“I — well, I mean…”

“I guess it’s a little weird. And I wasn’t a fan of the noise, I’ll give you that. But like, use a silencing charm next time and we’ve got no problem. I’m happy for you both.” Harry’s smile hasn’t faded this whole time. “Plus, this means Ron owes me five galleons.”

“What?” That’s from Sirius, who still looks incredibly apprehensive. 

“Well, he didn’t believe me when I told him Ginny was mad for you.”

“What?” That’s from Ginny this time. 

“I mean, you were pretty obvious about it, Gin,” Harry says. “You too, Sirius,” he adds, catching Sirius’s smirk. 

Ginny stands, no longer feeling like she should stay a minimum of three feet away from Sirius, but still hesitant to touch him. “You’re really fine with this?” she asks Harry softly, looking just at him. 

“Look,” he says, grin fading just a bit. “I know you two better than anyone. And, I think you’d make a lot of sense together, if that’s what you want… It doesn’t really matter if it’s a bit weird for me at first, does it?”

Sirius leaps forward and grabs his godson up in a hug, their heads of messy black hair nearly indistinguishable from each other, as Sirius murmurs something indistinguishable in Harry’s ear. 

“Right. Well,” Harry says when they separate. “I promised Padma a cup of tea, so I’d best get to it.”

“Padma?”

“Oh yeah, she’s still upstairs,” Harry says, a bit cheekily. “Silencing charms work, folks.”

And so, Ginny finds herself standing off to the side of the kitchen, next to Sirius, watching Harry make tea. Harry eventually heads off upstairs with a wink and that ridiculous cheeky grin, and they’re alone again. 

“So that was…unexpected,” Sirius says after a minute. 

“Yeah. Good, though.”

“Yeah, really good,” Sirius turns and takes both of her hands in his, and Ginny gets the feeling he’s not just talking about Harry anymore. “But, er, the way Harry was talking, it seemed like he was maybe expecting us to be, like, committed now? Which, I’m not sure if that’s what you want. I’m not saying it’s not what I want, but if you want something else, then —”

“Yes,” she says abruptly, cutting off his babbling. “That’s what I want.”

“Really?”

“I’m sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, cheesy endings. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this little moment of self-indulgent smuff (smut + fluff). 
> 
> Comments are always appreciated! I’m also on [tumblr.](https://diana-skye.tumblr.com/)


End file.
